


Neverland is not available at this time

by tech2upport (shimadagans)



Series: Oddly Normal [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Based on a set of headcanons, FTM Sollux, Multi, Trans Sollux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 14,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimadagans/pseuds/tech2upport
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux Captor has not always been Sollux Captor. Confused yet? So was he.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

It was awful at first.

The yelling, the accusations, the misunderstandings.

But you’re glad you told them, glad you said _something_ to your dad.

How you felt like you were drowning. Misplaced. Unnatural.

How you were worried that it would change everything, with your brother, with him, with your friends.

Everything _did_ change with your friends.

And you went far away.

You’re not sure why their reaction was the worst, your friends’. Or, at least _his_ was the worst. She seemed alright with it, which you were uncontrollably happy for, until he pulled her away from you, muttering things like _freak_ and _faker_.

“You’ll never be a _real_ guy, Sol,” he had said, and it had cut you deep.

So deep.

You went spiraling out of control, grades dropping, care gone, silence forthcoming.

You couldn’t stand their faces; hers showed pity, his showed disgust.

Even at home, where you felt most accepted, you started to feel restless. Destructive. You were never one for _that_ , but the idea of it seemed pretty friendly when your face hit on the floor, rock bottom.

You became more nervous, anxious, and twitchy. Your dad grew more and more concerned as you became more and more quiet. You only talked when it was required, and usually only to ‘Tuna. You felt as if only he could understand you, what with his mental state. He was still responsive to you, and you became closer to him, so you guess that’s a good thing.

You’re alike in more than just looks. You’re both squares trying to fit into circular holes. Your bodies say one thing, but your minds say another.

He simply accepted it. Said he was just as glad to have a brother as he had been to have a sister.

So did your dad, assuring you that he still loved you no matter who you were.

But going to school was hell.

The glances, the looks that said “It has tits, and no facial hair. What a freak!”

_It._

You weren’t worthy of any other title to them. Just “it”. Because apparently acceptance didn’t get around as much as judgment did.

So, for your 17th birthday, you asked for only one thing from your dad.

It arrived in a normal cardboard box, and though it wasn’t yet the 2nd of June when it arrived, hesaid “Go ahead, try it on.”

And for the first time in your life, you felt _okay_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Goodbye, good friends  
> or those who or not the  
> Best of friends that I  
> Ever had, or more for  
> those who'd like to  
> Have once called themselves  
> my fair acquaintances,  
> when in fact, the most  
> that was garnered was a  
> sense of grey."  
> \- M. Lincoln

You didn’t think you were ever going to have a chance to talk to the girl who had been your best friend again, after what had happened with who had been your other best friend.

  
But there she was, right outside the door of your favorite classroom, looking torn between vigorous enthusiasm and nerves.

  
You glanced over to your computer science teacher, who granted you unspoken permission with a nod of his head, before opening the door and getting tackled against it as you closed it behind yourself.

  
Feferi had never been the type to keep her emotions hidden, always making her thoughts and actions plain and clear. Today was apparently no exception, because she was wetting the shoulder of your worn t-shirt faster than a hose.

  
Her chants of “I’m so sorry”s and the like were only ceased by you patting her back somewhat incredulously.

  
Before you could ask why she was there, she stepped back and looked up to you, eyes still bright with tears.

  
“I’m sorry about…him.”

  
Though you had half been expecting to hear about this, it didn’t mean you wanted to.

  
“He’s just…unsure how to act.”

  
You would nod in agreement, if not for the fact that every word she spoke of him dropped you deeper down that oh-so-familiar hole of self-depreciation.

  
“He still really does care for you.”

  
“Cut the shit, FF,” you sighed, knowing full well that the look on his face when you had told them meant that things could never be the same between you again.

  
“But Sollux!” your chosen name still sounded foreign off her tongue, even if it had been your nickname for as long as you could remember, “He really does, really! Just…give him the summer, he’ll bounce right back, he’ll come back.” She sounded desperate, like she just wanted everything to go back. You idly wondered if she blamed you.

  
It was the week before school ended when she came to see you. After the disaster that had happened with this friend she was discussing, you had wanted to leave, so as far away as you could. And since you couldn’t just leave school in the middle of things, you had mentally withdrawn. The ambiguity of your mind was far more dangerous when you were alone.

  
“He might, but I’m not staying to see if that happens,” you sighed again, deeper this time, “FF, I’m moving away.”

  
She opened her mouth and closed it several times, as if she wanted to say something, anything, but the words had, for once, run dry.

  
“A need a new start.”

  
She nodded feverishly, as though it would help her understand your motives.

  
You leaned against the cinderblock wall and waited for the words to come.

  
“A new start? Where?”

  
“Prospit,” you answered, the name of the town bringing to mind visions of sunshine, tall buildings, and one of the top public high schools in the nation.

  
You had always liked rainy Derse, but it was no longer where you belonged. Every time you left the house, the whispers and stares would follow you.

  
“A new start?” she asked again, light eyes questioning and sad.

  
“A new start,” the words tasted almost bitter in your mouth, like the last dregs of your favorite tea.

  
You exchanged another quick hug before she walked back down the hallway, her feet dragging, not at all her cheerful self. You watched her until she had fully climbed the stairs near the end of the corridor. She offered you one last sad smile, _I wish it didn’t have to be like this_ , and you managed a smile in return, _yes, now it does_ , before she left your sight completely.

  
You leaned back against the cool wall, neck craned back and arms hanging. Your eyes felt heavy and your chest was tight.

  
That would be the last you saw of Feferi Peixes for a long while.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The thought of starting anew  
> is not always bright  
> but often void of feeling,  
> Until such Fates may arrive  
> that set one's mind to  
> receive what may be given."  
> -M. Lincoln

It was the last day of school.

You were moving into the house in Prospit the next day.

You didn’t know whether to be glad or not.

‘Tuna was starting college in a few months.

Your dad had gotten a new job.

Feferi was nowhere to be seen.

The house in Derse was almost empty.

And Eridan punched you.

You’re not sure why, actually, no, you have an idea. But it’s sickening and frankly, you don’t want to think about it.

So after he storms off, cursing with his overdone accent and nursing his right hand, you simply duck into the nearest classroom and ask for a pass to the clinic.

The nurse on staff when you arrive takes one look at you and waves you over to one of the sterile, too clean beds, shuffling away to get some ice for your fittingly-named Irish monocle.

You guess you’re glad you’re not bleeding.

‘Tuna drops by to pick you up early after the office calls home saying that you “were involved in an altercation” and after the vice principal scolds you for being reckless. You say nothing until your brother ruffles your hair fondly, and even then, your words are few and far between. You suppose you’re not supposed to feel like it’s your fault, that’s what the counselor said.

“Some people just don’t adjust to  change well, dear.”

You guess that’s true.

But Eridan’s last words keep ringing in your head:

“ _An’ you better stay the fuck away from Fef!”_

* * *

The drive to Prospit the next morning is uneventful, and you’re thankful for it. Your mind is already worn down, and you’re suddenly not sure how to react in many situations. Your mind drifts in and out of consciousness every few hours.

By the time you get to the new house, it’s dark out, and ‘Tuna is getting restless. As soon as the car rolls to a stop, he’s out the door and running up the steps to the new place.

It’s nicer than your old house, and though your dad keeps saying that you moved because he got a better job offer, you know why you’re really there.

And that thought keeps you up most of the night.

* * *

 

The next day’s unpacking goes smoother than you thought it would; the three of you have the place all set by noon. Then, it’s off to the bookstore downtown to fetch some textbook ‘Tuna needs for one of his classes.

While your father and brother scour the place for the necessary book, you lean against the windowsill at the front of the place and look outwards.

Prospit is bigger than Derse, and the sun does indeed shine brighter here, reflecting off all the shiny buildings in the city’s financial district and into the eyes of its citizens. You stare out for a few minutes before you feel eyes on the back of your head.

You turn nervously, and the girl in front of you looks like a ghost.

She’s not, of course, and she offers you a smile as she dusts off her hands on her uniform.

“You must be related to the two men at the register. They’re looking for you, as I believe they’ve made their purchases.”

She has reddish hair and a voice that makes you feel calm.

“And before you ask, my name is Aradia, and yes, I do work here.”

You blink a few times and offer her a smile, “Uh, yeah, hi, nice to meet you,” you hold out your hand and she takes it with a stringer grip that you expected, “I’m Sollux.”

She nods and shakes your hand up and down vigorously, twice, before turning and gesturing for you to follow, “As I expected.”

You make small talk as you wait for your family to make their way to the front of the store, and you find out that Aradia’s a junior at the same school as you, and she has an interest in history and, most of all, archaeology. She guesses before you can tell her that you like programming and hacking and she offers you a cheeky grin, telling you to stay out of too much trouble.

Before you leave, she gives you her chat handle.

As you’re leaving, she mentions a block party at which you will meet again.

She says you’ll be wearing blue.

Your dad nudges you and gives you a smile as you walk back to the car, “Making friends already, huh? A fresh start…”

A fresh start indeed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Chart a course across the dying grass  
> to the land of dry air, then humid, then dry again.  
> The days get longer, even when the sun sets  
> And all the people in the town notice, respect  
> That the late days have a timbre of all their own."  
> -M. Lincoln

The summer days are slow. Slower than most. Slower than they would be during a normal summer, because the only things to keep you company are your dad, your brother, your electronics, and your thoughts.

Aradia comes and goes as she pleases after helping your father with a particularly troublesome crossword puzzle, though her job and her “hobbies” keep her busier than you’d like.

You feel almost selfish, but she reassures you in the seemingly short time you spend with her that she doesn’t mind. A part of you thinks she knows why, sees the reason why you’re there. You’re proven wrong when you actually tell her. Or rather, mistakenly reveal to her.

It’s a particularly cruel day, and the sun isn’t the troublemaker today, it’s the humidity, the low clouds.

The two of you are lying face up on your shaded porch, most dignity forgotten, and your voices carry farther than you’d think, though it’s not as if you care much. You stretch out a bit more, thin t-shirt riding up just slightly, and her eyes catch on the non-moving fabric underneath, your birthday present. You freeze and her eyes widen.

“Sollux, what is that?”

There are no words to describe the feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you’ll try anyways.

Horror, guilt, a hint of shock. Maybe even a bit of resignation, if you look close.

You think you just lay there in that uncomfortable, halfway-stretched out position for a long time, before you let out a long breath.

“What do you think it is, AA?”

You’d taken to calling her that, it almost bothered her on some days, you think.

You watched her carefully, almost reaching down to tug your shirt back over the incriminating article, until her look of slight confusion and surprise turned into one you hadn’t seen on anybody except your family.

Acceptance.

Then, she tossed her head back and laughed, “Wow, I can honestly say I did _not_ predict that. I mean,” she looks back to you, sitting up slightly and an almost teasing smile on her lips, “I knew there was _something_ odd about you, but I just figured it was some tragedy with your mother or something. A dark back story for the boy with the mismatched eyes!”

Though you focused on almost nothing except the pronoun she used to address you, you heave up a reply from the back of your throat, still nervous, “Tragedy with my mother?”

“Yes,” she nodded, scooting closer to you and dramatically draping her arm over your shoulders, “A terrible car accident, taking a woman’s life and a mother from her sons! Or, oh, a fatal accident! The headline reads: ‘Woman dies in freak building collapse’! Oh, wait, none of that actually happened, right?”

You have a sudden urge to burst out laughing, and you do a mediocre job of keeping it in, “No, no, none of that happened. She was just a bitch. Left my dad as soon as I could walk.”

“Oh,” she breathes, and it almost sounds sad, “I would apologize, but I suppose I had nothing to do with that. And your dad never remarried?”

“Didn’t want to,” you snort, relaxing and finally completing your stretch, back hitting the deck with a light thud, “Said he didn’t want to chance someone like her coming along again.”

You almost forget that she knows now. And when you do remember, later that evening, you don’t freak out like you thought you would. You accept her acceptance.

And things feel more okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Judgment passed is not always Judgment seen,  
> In this picture of opinions, for what has been said  
> Is not always the same as what is gleaned."  
> -M. Lincoln

It’s July by the time you meet more people.

Aradia has a few friends besides you, and they’re all into this live-action role-playing thing, but when you’re over at her place, they refrain from it, and you usually end up watching a movie or playing games or something relatively normal, which is a nice change of pace.

There’s Tavros, who you call TV, after seeing how attached he was to certain cartoons; Aradia calls him her teammate.

There’s also Terezi, or TZ, and Vriska, or VK, who freak you out a little bit, if you’re being honest.

Even though there’s a bit of awkwardness in this group, especially between Tavros and Vriska, who apparently had some crazy fling back in freshman year, your group of little outcasts manages just fine. You ask them about the school, and apparently it’s pretty nice, though they do warn you to avoid the “Insufferable”, garnering a few giggles.

“Hah, that guy never shuts up!” cackles Terezi, which is a thing she does often, “My sister dated the guy for a bit, and she said even on dates he’d be blabbing off about some issue in society!”

“His brother’s almost worst,” says Vriska, laying upside-down and sticking her tongue out at Aradia, who promptly chucks a piece of popcorn at her, “He barely ever says a word, and when he does, it’s with the mouth of a sailor! Luckily, the older one graduated last year, valedictorian and all that, so we've only got one of 'em to deal with.”

“And those glares…” Tavros shivers from his side of the couch, wheelchair safely off to the side, “It’s like anyone who sits near him gets a death glare until they move.”

Usually, you’d take stories and rumors from a school with a grain of salt, but you make a mental note to avoid these guys, anyways.

“C’mon, guys; let Sollux make judgment on the Vantas family for himself,” chides Aradia, glancing pointedly at the rest of your new friends.

You didn’t know you were holding your breath until the rest of the group grins, not saying anything about Aradia’s last word: “himself”.

* * *

 

Living at home gets slightly more hectic between ‘Tuna getting ready to move into his new dorm and your dad’s new job, but your family of three manages just fine, getting together each night that you can and bonding over either microwaved or take-out meals and a movie.

Tonight’s options are either reheated Chinese or Italian, so you pull out a pair of the cheap chopsticks and dig into your General Tso’s under the lines of _Prometheus_. It’s mostly quiet, but not of an eerie sort, with you three making small talk here and there; your brother mentions his roommate (their name sounds odd and vaguely strange, though you guess you’re not in a place to talk), your dad glows about his new office and his suitemate, and you mention briefly what happened over at “AA’s”. It’s relatively quiet for awhile, until your brother grins in his wide, almost manic way, “Hey, Solly, Kanny’s got a lil’ bro, I think he’s your age!”

You smile and willingly indulge your brother, “Really? What’s he like?”

“Kanny says he’s ‘crude’, but I think he’s funny! He’s short and kinda angry and just kinda cute,” ‘Tuna cuts off with a peal of laughter, his lisp catching in his teeth, and now you’re all grinning; he’s always had infectious laughter.

“Does somebody have a crush?” teases your dad, and ‘Tuna snorts, “No! Not on the shorty…”

Your discussion dissolves into hilarity, and by the time you’re laughed out, you’re all exhausted. Your dad smiles, ruffles both of your sets of messy hair, and meanders off to his room, probably to do some more of his beloved crosswords. You brother follows shortly after, and, after finishing the movie and popping it back into its rightful case, you do, too, making your way to the bathroom and closing your door behind you.

The mirror stares you in the face, your glasses set aside for the moment, your eyes reflected back at you with a kind of angled laxness. Your breath comes easy, and you reach down to pull your shirt over your head, revealing the tighter cloth underneath. A frown pulls at your reflection’s face as you reach around uncomfortably to unclasp the article that keeps you as _you_ , turning away from the mirror and leaning against the counter, peeling it off with a sigh.

You keep your eyes up, arms crossed across your chest, barely reaching out with one hand to turn on the shower, shucking the rest of your clothes and sighing again.

Acceptance is brutal and fair, if only you could achieve it for yourself.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If Thought were a train, depending on the person  
> In question, it could be a bright red steam engine  
> Or a sleepy shuttle car, strung along by the tracks  
> That are Dreams."  
> -M. Lincoln

The rest of the summer slips by quietly. You see less and less of Aradia, though she assures you that you’ll see plenty of her once school starts. Since you’re transferring from another school, Prospit High has you take a few entrance exams, all of which you pass with flying colors, putting you in all the top classes.

You get your schedule a week before you go back, and everything seems to be in order. Your brother heads out that week, moving fully into his dorm at Prospit’s acclaimed University of Arts.

Your dad has to go through the whole ordeal of making sure the school records all say your correct name and gender, a process that leaves him slightly miffed and more than a little irritated.

In the absence of regular hang-outs with your new friends, you can almost feel yourself reverting back to your antisocial ways; avoiding eye contact at the supermarket and mumbling answers to questions from strangers.

Finally, the day that must be the bane of every teenager’s existence arrives, and you find yourself at the doors to Prospit High, other students swarming in around you. You’re all funneled into the gym, and you can easily spot your new friends from TZ’s chosen eyewear, bright red glasses. Once you reach them, there’s barely time for chit-chat, as the principal’s calling for order, ready to give the usual uppity speech. Afterwards, AA offers to show you where your first period math class is, but you can barely get up before an angry blur marches past you, nearly knocking you back into her, “PYROPE!”

The girl in question perks up immediately, a devious grin twisting her lips, “Oh, are those the dulcet tones of one Mr. Vantas I hear?”

“Fuck this and fuck you,” the angry blur has solidified into a compact individual who’s gesturing furiously with his hands, tossing a red dragon plush at Terezi, “And keep your goddamn stuffed animals out of my locker, you creepy dipshit!”

He whirls around, ready to storm away, but he pushes you out of the way first, earning an undignified shout of “Hey!” from you and a sigh from Aradia. He flips you the bird over his shoulder and continues out of the gym, occasionally jockeying for breathing room.

Terezi laughs her trademark cackle and slings an arm over your shoulders, “And that, my friend, is the infamous Karkat Vantas in action!” You almost want to ask her why she provoked him, but the manic gleam in her eyes and Aradia’s quiet murmur of “We’re going to be late” stop you.

She helps you navigate the hallways to your Calculus room, and bids you farewell, heading for the science hallway and saying that she’ll see you at lunch, though you didn’t mention if you had first lunch or second lunch that day.

The first thing you notice about the classroom is that _he’s_ in it.

The teacher seems nice enough, though she makes you introduce yourself to the class. You manage to get through your name with a minimal lisp factor and little to no stuttering, so you mentally pat yourself on the back.

Of course, the teacher seems nice, but also seems to want you dead, since she puts you at the desk next to the angry guy from before. Luckily, he seems incapacitated for the moment, practically snoring into the sleeve of his sweatshirt, textbook almost falling off the edge of his desk. She mentions that she’s out of textbooks at the moment and that she’ll look into retrieving one for you from the storage closet by tomorrow.

“In the meantime, why don’t you just look off of Mr. Vantas’ book?” she asks, innocently, thwacking a ruler down onto his desk and making him jump awake, his glare turned immediately onto you. He shoves said book towards you and glares at the teacher’s back as she walks away.

You spend the rest of the class craning your neck to see the equations and examples from the book and avoiding all contact with him, though you can’t help but sneak a few glances out of the corner of your eye. He looks Hispanic, with darker skin than yours and dark hair to match. You only get a glimpse of his eyes, but they look brown. He just sits there and doodles all class, and you wonder if he even wants to be in this class. The bell rings at the end, and he’s the first out the door, grumbling “Keep it,” and closing his book, pushing it back to you. He’s gone before you can insist that he keeps it, so you just offer it back to the teacher, hoping she won’t scold him too badly.

As luck would have it, you seem to have every class that day with him, besides a lunch-intermission with Aradia, and you’re assigned to sit next to him in all of them. In last period English, your least favorite, he seems to actually pay attention and do some form of work. He turns to you before the end of the day and grumbles,

“It looks like all the teachers want the new genius kid to make friends with the problem child, so I’m almost sorry that they gave you an impossible task.”

He looks smug until you retaliate, “More like they want you to make friends with _me_.”

He blinks for a moment, and you nearly see the smallest hint of a smile before he stands and gestures for you to follow,

“Alright, then. Let’s give them what they want.”

He’s hauling you through the hallways filled with ignorance before you can object, and you end up in the parking lot, faced with an older-looking Camry and a leather jacket-wearing carbon copy of your new “buddy”.

You can only wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "While your greatest enemies can never truly be your best friends,  
> Perhaps it is true that the line of neutrality that strains normal relationships  
> Can be used to twine together those that are not extreme to one another, like honey and milk,  
> Opposed to honey and flies."  
> -M. Lincoln

Your first step into the Vantas household is an interesting one. When Kankri (Karkat’s older brother, you learn, though they don’t look a day apart aside from their difference in height) opens the red door, you’re immediately assaulted by the scent of all manner of spices, coupled with the realization that they don’t remove their shoes at the entryway like your family does. Their living room is both cozy and sparsely furnished; the only real decoration is an ornate cross across from the door.

Kankri, already at the foot of the stairs leading upwards, asks your new “friend” something rapid in what you think is Spanish before disappearing upstairs, and Karkat beckons you into the kitchen, “It’s my turn to make dinner tonight.”

While he cooks, he talks to you in a mishmash of Spanish and English, tossing together ingredients in an almost haphazard manner, though the smells wafting to you at your seat at the counter say that this is careful cooking. You learn his dad’s a pastor, which explains the cross near the door, and that his brother is insufferable. He learns that your dad’s an “actual rocket scientist” and that your brother’s a little out there, but he’s perfectly nice. You like it there, perched on a stool, leaning over granite, the weight of spices and Karkat’s voice keeping you conscious.

Soon enough, Reverend Vantas arrives home and he greets you by lifting you up in a bear hug and literally spinning you around before attacking Karkat with the same affection. He’s not that old, you’re surprised, he’s probably around you dad’s age, and his voice is all at once exciting and soothing. He’s greatly friendly and engages you in lively conversation about psychology before Kankri enters the room, looking for plates and silverware.

You get up to leave, but Mr. Vantas (he begs you to call him “Keiran”) tugs you back and insists that you stay for dinner. After being Karkat’s taste-tester, you’re glad he did.

After being stuffed full of what Karkat called “ _pollo y arroz_ ”, you mention having to go home, and Kankri graciously offers to give you a ride; he says something about being “a good steward to the neighborhood” and Karkat snorts and beckons to you, muttering something like “ _maricon_ ” under his breath.

One quick car trip later, you find yourself oddly relieved that you don’t seem to live so far from the Vantas’ house. Karkat follows you up the driveway to your door, where you dig in your pockets for your key.

It’s not needed, though, when you hear your brother call your name gleefully through the house. He bounds to the door and swings it open avidly, a toothy grin stretched across his features.

“Who’th thith, Tholly, your new boyfriend?”

You turn back to apologize to Karkat, but he’s already flung himself down the steps and back into his brother’s car.

Ears burning, you make your way into your house, ruffling ‘Tuna’s hair good-naturedly and heading upstairs. You get a text about an hour later that says “ _see you tomorrow_ ”, which you assume is Karkat-speak for “ _I find you tolerable, and would not mind spending more time in your presence_ ”.

When you go to sleep a few more hours later, you’re actually looking forward to school.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Trust may be Key,  
> But another's Trust is a Lock."  
> -M. Lincoln

The first thing you do when you see Karkat the next day is plop a Tupperware container almost bursting with eggrolls and dumplings and fried rice onto his not-exactly-ready lap, earning you a truly dignified squawk and a glare, “What the fuck?”

You shrug and slide into your seat next to him, digging out your textbook and notebook, “Every time someone’s over at our house, Dad likes to give out some of our always-plentiful leftovers.” And suddenly, Karkat’s eyeing the box like it’s full of gold, “Oh, sweet Jesus on stilts.”

As quickly as his mood improved, though, it darkens again. “Oh. Ms. I-Don’t-Know-What-The-Fuck-Crawled-Up-Her-Ass-And-Died wants you to tutor me.” He seems genuinely upset about it, but you don’t mind at all, “Okay, when should we start?”

The teacher herself swoops up behind you (she has a disconcerting habit of doing that), “Well, Mr. Captor, I’m sure you won’t mind using the hallway, right?”

* * *

 

A few minutes and a few steps later, you two find yourselves out in the hallway, with a list of topics the teacher thinks Karkat needs to learn, ranging from quadratic equations to complex trig.

You start with quadratics.

“You see, KK, it’s just like the plot of a normal Hollywood-trope movie,” you’re sitting with your backs against the wall and you are pointing to a familiar U-shaped graph, trying to get Karkat to understand, “Here’s the start, the rising action, the climax, and the falling action to the resolution.”

You look over and his eyes are on you, but not _on_ you, more centered on the area of your collar than anything else, and you’re suddenly really nervous, “KK?”

He blinks quickly and shakes his head, “I can’t work here,” and he starts gathering up his things, “Let’s get out of here.”

You stand with him, still nervous, and now confused, “What, you mean like…skipping?”

“Yeah, you dork,” he rolls his eyes and grabs your wrist, “Let’s go back to my house.”

You don’t know what makes you do it, but you let him pull you down the empty hallways.

(Maybe it’s his eyes, maybe it’s the promise of more food, maybe it’s because you’ve known him for only a few days and he’s already comfortable to you.)


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The most mundane things can take on meaning  
> If they want to. Imparting importance  
> to an unwilling object  
> is like porting a .wav to .mp3."  
> -M. Lincoln

It seems almost too easy to head down the science hallway and find an abandoned Biology classroom (the teachers leave their rooms open so people can finish labs and whatnot, or so Karkat explains). He just walks right in and you can’t help but wonder if this is a thing that he does often as he gets up on the slate black counter and heaves himself out one of the small, conveniently-open windows.

“Hey, slowpoke, you coming?” you catch a glimpse of his face before he stands and starts walking away, and you scramble out after him with all of your awkward grace, nearly tripping twice in your haste to keep up with him.

He’s grinning at you by the time you get outside, and he physically tugs you down the sloping hill away from the school building, “You don’t do this kind of thing, do you?”

You’re proud of yourself for not losing your breath by the time you reach your neighborhood; especially considering the pace short-dark-and-shouty sets for you.

“What are you, some kind of parkour guru?” you shoot at him as he makes another snide comment about you not using your plentiful legs properly, and all you get back is a smirk that says you’re not getting a real answer any time soon.

You didn’t expect to be relieved when there’s nobody already in his house, but you are, and he beckons you once again to the kitchen. Any fear you have of being caught and yelled at by some nameless administrator is conquered by the promise of more delicious food.

This time, you actually help him, handing him ingredients at his request and kindly ignoring the little stepstool tucked away in one of the lower cabinets (which you’re sure isn’t used by his brother or father). You don’t even bother asking what he’s making, you just listen to him talk, in that weirdly homey mix of English and Spanish and when he’s done, he spins you around with one arm and sends you out into the living room with forks and a mouthful of whatever he’s putting on your plates.

You no longer have any doubt whatsoever that skipping with Karkat was a much better idea than stewing in the restless, punch-drunk experience that is the second day of junior year by the time he takes your plates away and another episode of _How It’s Made_ rolls onto the screen of the TV in front of you.

Kankri doesn’t ask any awkward questions when he gets home, but that might be because Karkat teases him with a nickname: “Kiki”. Red-faced and muttering something in Spanish that sounds vaguely like displeasure, but holds no bile, the older Vantas darts up the stairs and you hear a door shut softly before Karkat stretches out and you offer for him to come over to your place tomorrow.

To your surprise, he accepts.

You amiably refuse to stay for dinner this time, but Mr. Vantas counters with the refusal to send you home by yourself, even if it’s just a few blocks of well-lit sidewalk. So Karkat walks you home after his brother and father share a knowing grin. He darts away before anyone can make another dating comment, but you’re too (unreasonably) excited about tomorrow that you choose not to mention his pink face.

Even if you think it’s cute.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Suspect one thing, and plan for another,  
> For surprises take delight in hiding in each other."  
> -M. Lincoln

AA: Sollux?

AA: I know you’re there, you’re not at school.

AA: ….don’t make me tell the principal!

AA: or worse, your dad!

TA: calm your creepily all-knowing mammaries, AA.

TA: I was over at KK’s.

AA: “KK”? You don’t mean…

TA: shit.

AA: YOU WERE WITH KARKAT? LIKE, ANGRY, SHORT, HISPANIC KARKAT VANTAS???

TA: ….yeah?

AA: oh. okay.

AA: just making sure. OuO

TA: ??

TA: what, no “you should stay in school, Sollux” lecture or anything?

TA: I’m slightly disappointed.

AA: well, the way I see it, even if I told you to, it probably wouldn’t make much difference.

AA: plus, the power went out and they sent everyone home, anyways.

AA: so no need to cook up some crazy excuse as to why you’re home before Mr. Vantas is.

AA: he gets off work early on Tuesdays, correct?

TA: …I’m not gonna question how you know about his schedule.

TA: but what are we gonna tell KK’s brother?

AA: nothing. he won’t be home early, unlike you two.

AA: he heard there’s an art exhibition downtown, so he’s going, I bet.

AA: no need to thank me. OuO

TA: AA YOU ARE A GENIUS AND I LOVE YOUR BEAUTIFUL, CONIVING MIND.

AA: haha, I said there’s no need to thank me!

AA: just have fun at Karkat’s.

AA: I’m sure you’re still over there, using his computer to reply to me.

TA: goddamn.

* * *

 

You actually go to school the next day, mostly because you want to make sure Karkat didn’t get in trouble and can still come over.

He didn’t and he can.

You decide not to question the unbelievable luck of yesterday and continue trying not to stare at the fine ass whatever deity thrives above gifted your friend with (when did you start staring at it in the first place?) all day . You get the tugging feeling that everyone gets when somebody’s staring at them, but every time you turn around to catch the perpetrator in the act, the only person there is Karkat, his kind of weird brownish eyes everywhere but on you until you tap his shoulder or say his name.

To your surprise, he doesn’t actually despise Terezi; it seems more to you like a childhood friendship, a bit strained by time but otherwise intact. Aradia’s there at lunch, too, and she keeps giving you these little smiles that say “I know something you don’t, even though it concerns you and I should tell you, though I’m not going to,” and you’re sighing at an unheard of rate by the time the bell rings for the next class.

The rest of the day trickles by with the same lack of speed it always does when you’re looking forward to something. In last period, Karkat makes some kind of comment about you being an eager water-dwelling mammal, but you’re half listening because watching the clock with the intensity of said animal is much more conducive.

Today has been a good day for you, with less focus to spend on worrying if anybody will see through you and the fabric you dress yourself in, past the bravado and polyester-cotton blend.

* * *

 

Kankri volunteers to drive both of you over to your house ( though the fee is sitting through a “discussion” on the merits of various countries in need), and you nearly bound up the steps, dragging a lethargic Karkat behind you. The two Vantas brothers follow you in, and Mituna ( home today to pick up some supplies ) sprints down the stairs to greet the shiny new people you’ve brought, though it seems there’s no need when your brother spots Karkat’s.

“Kanny!” he yelps with apparent delight, tackling the unsuspecting Vantas to the floor, and something in the back of your mind clicks.

Kankri is Mituna’s roommate.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Expectations serve to become misdemeanors unless treated as pets."  
> -M. Lincoln

It turns out that “Kanny” is a hopeful actor, and he’s already at least slightly conditioned to your brother’s bouts of sudden affection, which saves you a messy explanation.

“Yes, yes, it’s very nice to see you, as well, Mituna,” he says into ‘Tuna’s chest (Your brother’s even taller than you are), and then he turns his head and his gaze catches on one of the many of ‘Tuna’s paintings in your house, “What is…?”

‘Tuna turns to follow Kankri’s gaze, and he laughs, “Oh, that’s just one of my paintings!”

You and Karkat exchange a bewildered look, and you beckon him to the staircase going down into the basement. The last thing you hear from the other two is Kankri marveling over the “artistry and vividness” of ‘Tuna’s work.

Before you let Karkat into what your family affectionately calls “the lair”, you give him a warning, “Okay, down here is the result of the hard work and scavenging of two generations of Captors. Try not to freak out,” and you grin before flicking on the light.

Karkat appropriately drops to his knees in probably-not-entirely-fake awe and bows down in front of the massive collection of all things video game. The huge TV alone would serve to make any neck beard in their right mind break down, and you’re pretty sure you have at least one of every console known to greater mankind.

Karkat blanches when you tell him there are games tucked away in an entire wall of filing cabinets.

 

Then, he (still in awe) demands to play a game.

* * *

 

After well-thrashing him in several games (all of his choice) Karkat announces that he’s not going home ever again, and you grin sheepishly and start wrapping up your 360 controllers.

“Your family must be pretty well off, then, huh?” he asks, and when you looked up, confused by his question, he amends, turning faintly pink, “I mean, uh, I was only thinking, because there’s a lot of really cool stuff down here, and, I mean—“

“KK, shut up,” you take the entirely deserved liberty of smacking his arm with the back of your hand, earning you a yelp and a scowl, “A lot of this ‘really cool stuff’ is from yard sales or gift boxes from our family overseas.”

He looks ashamed for what you deem an appropriate amount of time before you add, “And you can come over whenever you want.”

He’s thankfully too busy celebrating to notice the lightest change in your face’s color.

* * *

 

“Very attractive,” he comments over pizza, and you almost choke on your most recent bite.

You gather the courage to look over at him with a look that you’re sure resembles a deer caught in some headlights, and he snorts and gestures to your nose, “Look, you dweeb, you have sauce on your face.”

When you fail to do much but attempt to contain the heat rising to your face, he rolls his eyes and takes his napkin to your face, wiping off the guilty marinara, “See? It was right there,” and whoa, his fingers are on your face all of a sudden, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone before he leans away again, “Is putting marinara on your skin the key to getting soft skin, Sollux?”

He’s still touching your face, and you have to fight to stay still and keep your breathing steady (say something normal, Sollux, c’mon), “KK, dude, you’re gonna make my skin all greasy,” and he whips off your glasses before you can stop him.

There’s a not-quite awkward moment where he stares at you, or, more specifically, your eyes, and you can’t help but feel a little self conscious. He breaks the silence with a sigh that you can feel, “Damn it, I was banking on gray.”

He hands you back your glasses, still staring, and you’re still confused, “What’re you talking about?”

“Your eyes, dumbfuck, I thought they were gonna be gray behind those ridiculous glasses.”

“Oh,” and you’re caught between offended and worried, “Are they too weird for you?”

His simple “no” sends you on more of a trip than you expect.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sharing a secret is akin to giving a piece of yourself, willing, away."  
> -M. Lincoln

Over the next few weeks, you spend a lot of time with Karkat. So much so that your other friends start questioning what’s going on with you two. You’re loathe to explain to curious, misinformed classmates that no, you two are not dating, fucking, nor in an open relationship. Karkat is even more loathe to do the same thing. Nearly every day, you two head to the parking lot so Kankri can take you to either of your houses.

( If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re pretty sure that Kankri and Mituna are getting asked similar questions by their own classmates. These questions might be founded in some amount of truth, however.)

The actual time you spend with your new closest friend involves a lot of petty bickering that holds no bile and a lot of watching and playing various forms of media. The amount of important speech is kept to a comfortable minimum, and, if you really think about it, you don’t know very much about him.

So, about a month after your first visit to the Vantas household, during a sleepover at your house, you suggest a common game of truth or dare. To your surprise, Karkat accepts.

After a few rounds of just commanding each other to do truly inane things (there was an incident with the salt and pepper shakers), the game devolves into just asking each other questions while sporadically flicking popcorn around. You hold onto what you think is a loaded question until the opportune time, then let it slip:

“Alright, KK, is there a special someone in your life?”

He seems unphased by your question, “No. Now, your turn.”

“Hey, wait, that was a shitty answer,” you cut in, “Do you have a crush or anything? Who is it? Do I know them?”

“Maybe, not telling you, and I don’t know,” he answers, eyebrows furrowed to Level 2 of Karkat’s Irritation Meter, “Now, it’s your turn. Same question to you.”

Simmering with curiosity at your friend’s pink face, you reply, “Maybe. Is it Strider?” You go for the obvious one; Dave’s got a solid following of girls and guys alike, and he doesn’t talk much to anyone but his weirdo best friend and their sisters. The douchebag-height-of-desire himself, and you’ll admit that he’s pretty attractive.

Karkat’s face is priceless, “Ugh, no.  Why do you wanna know? I’m not even sure if I like the guy anymore—“ and he colors more brightly, “Shit. Fuck, forget I said that.” But you’ve already latched onto that bit of information with a devious grin, “Ooooh? So, it’s a guy? Wow, KK, I didn’t think you ‘swung that way’.”

He flops onto his back with a huff, turning away from you slightly, “Why, is me not being the straightest of the straight a problem, Lispy?”

“No, no, of course not,” you reply, holding your hands up like a shield, “I’m not exactly straight, either, dude, it’s cool.”

After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, he turns back around to face you with a sigh, “It’s Egbert. At least it was for awhile. I’m not sure anymore.”

“Oh,” and you’re back into your comfort zone, teasing him, “You go for the derps? Damn.” And your comment earns you a smack to your arm, “Shut up, asswipe, you didn’t even tell me who yours is.”

You hesitate, because how the hell are you supposed to tell him that he’s way more attractive than he gives himself credit for, “I…can’t. I can’t because,” and his eyebrows are raised, shit, “I…don’t have one.”

“Really?” he doesn’t look disbelieving, just surprised, “I thought you and Miss Creepy were definitely a thing.”

“What, Aradia?” you laugh and smack his arm back, “Nah, we’re just…close.”

The rest of the night is spent in what feels like closer company.


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The line between neutrality and extremism is often unknowingly close at hand."  
> -M. Lincoln

Now that you’re aware of Karkat’s feelings for John, you notice and recall the inordinate amount of time your best friend spends glancing over at the guy. You guess he’s cute, though when you rightfully asked Karkat why he likes the guy, he simply responded with a blush and a mutter of “none of your business”. To you, though, those words demand a friendly period of investigation, which means you ask him nearly every day and it never ceases to get under his skin.

This information also means that you’re constantly trying to be a good wingman, making friends with both John and his ever present accomplice, a particular Strider. You’ll admit that the guy’s pretty attractive, as you did at the infamous sleepover, but you learn he’s got a bit of an ego to match.

And he apparently has an eye for the tall, skinny type, or so you hear via the rumor mill.

He makes a comment one day, something about wanting to have attractive people for friends, and you can’t see his eyes because of those ridiculous aviators, but you’re pretty sure he winked at you.

And then Karkat.

And then Egbert.

You’re half relieved to discover you have absolutely no feelings beyond “broship” for Dave, especially when you find yourself caught with him in the little annex between the locker room and the hallway, shades ever present.

“Captor,” he regards you with the hint of a smile and you return it, still walking to the door, expecting this to be just a passing greeting, “Strider.”

He’s closer to you than you first thought, and you make an idle comment about needing to go to History before he laughs quietly and catches you by your wrist, “You think I’m hot, don’t you?”

More comfortable with him than you were a few weeks ago, you grin and waggle your eyebrows at him, “Who doesn’t?” but he’s still holding your forearm.

“No, seriously, you’re attracted to me, am I right?” he continues on when you remain silent, “Yeah, I’ve seen your glances, Karkat’s too.”

“Hey, I don’t look _that_ often! And Karkat’s not looking at you, he’s…” Oh, crap. You can practically see Dave’s eyebrows raising, you can’t tell him that Karkat’s staring at John, not him, “Yeah, alright, he’s looking too.”

“Hey, it’s totally fine to think your bro’s attractive, I ain’t offended or weirded out or anything,” he shrugs, letting go of your arm in the process, “And I’m not looking for a cuddlebuddy, It’s just nice to know, y’know? You’re not too shabby yourself, Twiggy,” he grins and you hope you don’t look half as relieved as you feel, “Oh, my Bro’s going away for the weekend, and he wants somebody to come ‘check up on me’ while he’s gone. Up for some Street Fighter?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you’re caught by surprise, according to Egbert, the privilege of entering the Strider domain is offered only to close friends and family, “Saturday at seven sound okay?”

He agrees without a hitch, and you make it to history in time to catch Karkat texting someone, probably Egbert. He raises his eyebrows at you when you approach and abruptly shoves his phone into his pocket, “Where the fuck were you? Normally you’re here before me.”

“Strider invited me over to his place’” you inform him, “Now, what does the dear derp have to—“

“Wait,” he cuts you off, looking more incredulous by the second, “He _what_?”

“Invited me over to his place,” you say it slowly, like you’re trying to teach him the words, and he just gapes at you for a second before muttering, half to himself, “I mean, I knew he thought you were hot, but I didn’t think it would go this far, I could’ve sworn he had a thing for..”

“KK, cut the shit and tell me what’s going on in that crazy little head of yours.”

He takes a deep breath and looks carefully at you, “Strider almost never has people over. Usually, John is the only one to go over there. Unless it’s somebody Strider _wants_.”

“And?” you ask, “Dude, he definitely invited me on the basis of _friendship_. And I’m not into him, anyways.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not into you,” Karkat scoffs, and he doesn’t talk to you for the rest of the period, the rest of the day, or the next day. You only hear from him through a cryptic text sent Saturday afternoon, _Have fun with your boyfriend_.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say Karkat’s _jealous_.


	14. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The caged bird will sing when it has an opportunity,  
> and the 'free' bird will caw when it can't."  
> -M. Lincoln

At 6:52, you wave to ‘Tuna as he drives away and you turn around to face the behemoth that is the Striders’ apartment building. They, of course, live on the top floor, the penthouse suite, and you can scarcely see the top.

Following Dave’s directions, you dart out of an elevator (one of four) on the designated floor and are faced with a few flights of stairs whose walls are littered with what appears to be poorly-drawn comics. You finally climb the last step ( a few flights happened to be eight), and look up to see a man who much resembles Dave leaning against the door (wasn’t he supposed to be gone already?). You reach up to wave at him but you blink and _he’s not there_. Odd.

The door itself is open now, and you hear footsteps coming forward as you walk in and you kind of actually run into the youngest Strider.

“Jesus, Captor, what’re you, blind or something?” he asks, quickly adjusting those ever present shades.

You snort and he reaches behind you to shut the door, sounding oddly apologetic, “Sorry, I wanted to get down there to shut off Bro’s stupid hologram before you got up here and it freaked the shit out of you, but the crows…”

You’re only half paying attention; instead choosing to survey what you assume is the living room in front of you. It’s messy, to say the least, with magazines and various weapons and pointy objects littering the room. There’s a sort of path carved through all the sheer amount of stuff, which Dave starts heading down, gesturing for you to follow.

“Bro keeps all these fucking crows on the roof, you don’t have like a weird fear of birds, right?” When you shake your head, he’s right back to talking, “Good, ‘cause I gotta finish feeding them, and I don’t want you to get lost.” It doesn’t seem to be a sleight to your intelligence; it looks almost impossible to navigate the cluttered halls.

He leads you deeper into the place, and the piles of _stuff_ become more impressive as you go on. Your path quickly slopes down, and you’re confused until you see a flight of stairs leading up to what appears to be a trapdoor at the top.

You’re wondering if the shitty-art wallpaper is a thing throughout the suite as you emerge from another long stair-climb. The black, semi-domesticated birds start making an ugly racket when you two approach, but Dave throws in another bushel of birdseed and they quiet down. You walk over to the edge of the building and look over as he further tends to the birds, and you don’t move until you sense him behind you, musing to yourself about Karkat’s words. Strider hasn’t hit on you or anything, so you half want to text KK back with an “I told you nothing would happen,” but Dave’s right behind you now.

“Captor, you coming in, or are you trying to gain entry to the Crow Brotherhood?”

You end up watching a movie and making snide remarks about it instead of playing a game ( it’s the new Star Trek, you didn’t think it was out yet), and try not to make something out of the way Dave keeps scooting gradually closer to you on the plenty-big-enough-for-five couch. The credits start rolling and you almost jolt away (you’re practically breathing the same air by now, oh your god ), but there’s nowhere to go, just Dave hovering right next to you and touching your arm. He sort-of grins at you and taps your chin upwards and you reach for his face, too (fuck it, fuck it all, it’s not like KK was gonna actually consider you for anything beyond friendship ) and you’re kissing and wow he’s better than you want to give him credit for, all odd experience.

It’s all a little rough around the edges, but you keep trying, and it gets better, and hotter, and you realize with late surprise that that’s his tongue, and oh-holy-fucking-shit, _how did his hands get under your shirt_.

He freezes and pulls away, aviators not even slightly skewed (damn him), hands still resting over the seam of what is definitely not skin, mouth a little agape and face flushed, “Captor?”

All you can think is _oh shit, I’m about to become the laughing stock of this school now, too,_ and Strider pulls away, but he starts shucking his shirt and you get fifty shades of confused because _he has one too_.

You take off your shirt, too ( you feel kind of obligated, he didn’t have to do that, this is all surreal), and the breathless, kind of broken grin he gives is almost worth the bareness you feel.

“Of all the skinny douchebags I could invite over, it had to be you, huh, Sollux?”

You’re almost grinning back, making sure not to eye him too closely because you know how that makes you feel, “Apparently. Must be your stupid irony or whatever at play.”

“Bros?”

“Yeah.”

You end up playing Street Fighter after all (not sans shirts), and you get a text from him that makes you actually laugh when you get home at ten:

“ _I’d still tap that.”_


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes, what we think is ours to know,  
> Is not even ours to consider in the slightest."  
> -M. Lincoln

Karkat’s there at your house the next day, as has become customary on Sundays after he helps his dad with early service at church, but he looks almost furious to see you when you let him in, and pushes you through the entryway and up the stairs to your room, visibly fuming.

“What did he do to you?” is the first thing he asks when you get up to your room, “He tried something, didn’t he, that fucking bastard-“

It takes you a second to actually process what he’s talking about and you can’t help but laugh a little, “’He’ didn’t do anything, KK, we kissed a little, but it was weird,” you briefly consider telling him what actually happened, but dismiss the idea quickly, “So we stopped.”

“Wait, really?” Karkat’s gone from hissing cat to curious one, complete with the head tilt and wide eyes, though he’s still got you pinned against your door, “Nothing past that?”

“No, you dumbfuck,” you snort at him, and then pause in realization, “Wait, are you being…protective?” You almost want to say ‘jealous’, but you’re scared of his reaction to that word.

Then again, that flush over his face speaks volumes, “No, nope, I’m nope-ing so hard here, Captor, that I might as well be the actual word ‘no’.”

“Does Egbert know?” you tease him, not at all serious, “Oh no, am I gonnna be on some derpy hitlist? Should I be fearing for my life?” And Karkat continues to shake his head as you lets go of you, laughing now, too, “No, oh my god, just shut up.”

You reach over to mess up his hair before flopping onto your bed to resume the normal Sunday routine, “Alright, will do, Mr. ‘No’.”

“Fuck you, Sollux!”

* * *

 

Despite showing signs of being back to normal, Karkat’s a little odd for the rest of the week, and though John’s recently been starting to hang out with you two during free times in and between classes (and also bringing Dave along), your friend just keeps blowing him off, thoroughly confusing both you and John. On Friday, during lunch, Karkat makes a particularly keen insight on Nicholas Cage, one of John’s (somehow) favorite actors, and then proceeds to go on a rant about how stupid magic tricks are, earning him a reproachful look from said derp as he quickly puts his deck of playing cards away.

“C’mon, Dave,” he says, motioning for his best friend to follow him, still glaring at Karkat, “Obviously, _somebody_ woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” and he quickly moves to another table. Dave offers you a shrug and a slight grimace before following him away, and you’re left staring at Karkat, “Dude, what the fuck?”

“What?” he asks, clearly a little miffed, “He was pissing me off, so I shooed him away.”

“KK, hello?” you wave your hand in front of his face, “Earth to Karkat, that’s your crush of I-don’t-even-know-how-long, and you just blew up at him and now,” you glance over to see which table they’ve joined, “He’s over there being comforted by Serket, don’t you hate her?!”

“She can have him,” he snorts, standing and turning to throw his trash away before facing you again, arms crossed, “Plus, why do you even care, Sollux?” Oh fuck, you’ve turned to anger to yourself now, “Hey, I’m just trying to be a good friend, just trying to help you out!”

“What’re you, _jealous_ , Sollux? Think he’s gonna go seek solace from Dave, and there goes your fuckbuddy?”

“Hey!” you’re both reeling and pissed off now, “That’s uncalled for! Nothing happened with me and Strider!”

Karkat shrugs and tries to seem nonchalant, though you can feel the anger just beneath the surface, “It’s not _my_ business what you did or didn’t do, not really, and don’t worry about Egbert,I don’t even like him anymore.”

“Then who do you- wait, Karkat!” But he’s already halfway out of the cafeteria by the time you stand, and now there’s at least a dozen eyes on you as you run to try and catch him.

The main thought that runs through your mind is _what did I do to piss him off so badly?_

You resolve to find out.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay, time to play a game,  
> Who's actually been reading all the  
> poetry at the beginnings of the chapters?  
> It's all been a ploy to see if you're paying attention.  
> Maybe."  
> -M. Lincoln

Karkat ignores every text and call you send his way for  the next week, and though he’s in almost every one of your classes, you don’t see him much at all, and when you do, he’s ( what you think is purposely) not looking at you, but scowling off to the side.

Not that you’re staring openly, you just want to know why who you thought (and maybe hoped) was your best friend is avoiding you.

You wonder if it has anything to do with John, but decide against asking him, because, as far as you can tell, they’re not speaking right now, either. Dave is expressionless as usual, and lunchtimes become significantly quieter in a literal sense now that Karkat isn’t showing up.

You show up to the Vantas household on Friday afternoon when desperation to know that Karkat didn’t stop talking to you because he found out about _you_ becomes overwhelming and you feel a little lost when you walk up and knock on the door instead of going right in.

Reverend Vantas answers the door in his usual cheery fashion, asking why you haven’t been over as much lately, and it hits you that not even his dad knows what’s been going on with him.

You head up the stairs and stare at his bedroom door for a moment or two before knocking and you can hear Karkat in there somewhere, and his voice gets clearer as he gets closer to the door,

“…and no, for the last time, Kankri, I don’t want any soup or anything, it’s a damn crush, not a sickness-“

He opens the door, and his eyes drift upwards, obviously expecting his brother instead of you, and you open your mouth to actually say something instead of just staring at him,

“Hey-“

The door closes in your face.

You stand there kind of really idiotically for a few moments, and Kankri pokes his head out of his room for a moment and offers you a sort of half-knowing, half-apologetic smile before ducking back into his room and closing the door behind him.

For the next thirty minutes, you knock on Karkat’s door, talk to him through it, and pray that he’ll just _talk to you_ , because you have no idea why we won’t. You’re about halfway through the second verse of “My Heart Will Go On” before he opens the door on you fall backwards from your seated position on the floor.

“What the fuck do you want, Captor? You don’t just come to peoples’ residences and make them want to gouge out their eardrums,” he stalks back into his room, leaving you on the floor and flopping down onto his bed with a scowl, “it’s fucking rude.”

“I haven’t heard from you in a few days, is it so terrible of me to wonder if you’re alright?” you pause for a moment and continue since he’s not replying, “I mean, after that whole thing with John and-“

He holds up a hand and shakes his head, still scowling, “Don’t talk to me about John fucking Egbert anymore, I’m so sick of him.”

That certainly comes as a shock. He has the decency to look away while you gape like a fish out of water, “KK, you said you’ve had the hugest crush on him for years, and all of a sudden, you don’t?”

“It was just a crush,” he mutters back, and then he turns to look at you again, not glaring now, “Listen, I know I was a huge dick to you, I just,” he runs a hand through his hair like he wants to pull it out and heaves a sigh, “I needed some space and time to think, okay? If you want so badly to help me out, just…don’t talk about him anymore, and don’t ask me about what happened, alright?”

You find yourself agreeing without hesistance, and though you’re internally questioning yourself, the long hug and the quiet, so-unlike-Karkat “Thanks,” that follow are worth any doubt.


	17. 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The fuck even defines poetry? Not much, but words  
> and sporadically entered spaces."  
> -M. Lincoln

The following weeks lend themselves to a sort of falling back into routine with your grumpy asshole of a friend, minus, of course, mentions of the person or name that makes his expression go darker than the past summer’s storms. You break back into stride with jokes made on each other’s behalf, faux-fistfights and a sense of security. In general, you’re just plain relieved to be able to walk into homeroom without feeling the full absence of someone who seems to not mind you talking as much as you don’t mind his own speech.

Included in this sort of “picking-up-right-where-we-left-off-with-only-a-few-exceptions” continuation is the weekly Saturday night sleepovers that usually involve some sort of digital ass-kicking, some Karkat-approved cinematography, and the sort of banter that you’re slowly letting yourself get used to again.

“ _Warm Bodies_ is fucking excellent and is a prime example of fantastic genre-crossing film. I don’t know why I even waste my recommendations on someone who can’t even watch parts of _Star Wars_ without cringing because he’s too emotionally stunted to understand that romance is a key part of life and—“

“KK, shut up, save us both the breath, would you? I bet you cried during _Lilo and Stitch._ ”

The commendation of “you absolute asshole” is barely uttered before you end up with your ass on the floor and a smug, yet irritated Karkat sitting upright where your previously mentioned posterior had been on the couch, “Who didn’t? Are you trying to say that’s a bad thing? I was like six! If you didn’t tear up a little, there’s something wrong with you.”

Your response is a piece of popcorn that, when hurled, bounces off Karkat’s nose and causes him to whack you with one of the ridiculous handmade throw pillows your aunt sends your father for Christmas every year. Ten minutes later finds you both collapsed and laughing on the floor of the basement, each clutching one of the well-meant gifts and your own sides. You nudge his shoulder with a foot and he snorts,

“Dude, you hit like a girl.”

Normally, you’d wonder to yourself what your face looks like right now. Normally, you’d laugh it off and get up and go make more popcorn to replace the kernels that got lost in the fray. Normally, you wouldn’t feel like you’ve been punched harder than any fist Karkat’s jokingly thrown your way.

You swallow down something you don’t want to think about and manage a nervous laugh that’s not even half as loud as usual, “Not all of us can be real life Punch Out champions, KK.” But Karkat makes a weird face that makes you think of a cop finding out he’s got the wrong suspect in his squad car, “Dude, are you okay? Did I actually hurt you? Seriously, my bad, you look like you saw a fucking ghost…”

He blathers on, something about “glass fucking bones and bruises” and you try your hardest not to look as sick as you feel. The carpet is suddenly a very interesting shade of beige as you try to focus on what Karkat’s saying again.

“…christ, dude, you’re not going to black out on me, are you? Fuck, what if you’re bleeding internally, holy shit—“

He looks honestly, genuinely worried, so you do him a favor and shut him the fuck up by whacking him with your pillow, though the motion gives you another wave of dizziness, “Shut up, KK, I’m fine.”

You guess he’s not convinced, because he basically pins you down by sitting on you, leaning in to poke and prod at your “pale as fuck” face and eventually holding a hand in front of your face, asking you how many fingers he’s holding up. You swat his hand away and he starts mumbling symptoms to himself while further invading your personal space, “Irritability, short-term memory loss, loss of color, inability to focus, damn-“

Much too quickly for your liking, his hands are patting up your sides, and when they make their way up to your ribcage, he freezes and panic takes over as you basically shriek and manage, somehow, to wriggle out from under him and to the wall on the other side of the room, panting.

“Dude, what the fuck?” He’s still sitting there, arms extended, expression hard to read, or, wait, maybe that’s just your vision swimming, damn your anxiety. “Sorry, fuck, I’m just, I-“ you struggle to formulate an excuse, settling on “I’m really ticklish, okay, you gotta warn me before you-“

“Bullshit.” You’re startled until you finally focus on his face, on where his eyes are resting, on your shirt rucked up almost to your armpits from his previous search for broken ribs, or rather, what was hidden safely beneath it, “What the fuck is _that_.”

Panic subsiding for the most part, you weigh your options quickly; you could lie and make up some excuse, crazy things happen, right? Or, you could hope (god, you _so_ hope) that Karkat’s understanding and at the very least he doesn’t tell everyone at school what a fucking _freak_ you are—

“Sollux, you dumb shit, what is that?” he asks again, and you don’t know what causes it but he doesn’t sound mad-

“It’s a fucking binder, okay?” his expression doesn’t change so you keep going, “You know, chest compression? Binding?”

“Yeah, okay, I know, but, dude, why are you wearing one?”

You bite your lip and oh, would you look at that, you never noticed just how _captivating_ the walls are, either. Where’d that one chip in the paint come from? Is that part unevenly painted, or is it just the lighting?

“ _Oh_.”

You count the seconds until he storms out, angry at being deceived, unwilling to talk to you again, until he doesn’t; until, for the second time this month, you find yourself on the receiving end of the particularly magnificent Vantas hug. And better yet, he’s actually _talking_ to you still.

“Holy fuck, I’m sorry, that was so fucking rude of me, I just assumed, I’ve been assuming, I mean I guess that’s what you want, right? You want people to think you’re a guy…not that you’re not a guy! Right? Just. Okay,” he finally looks at you, looking curious instead of pissed, “You consider yourself a guy, right?”

“Uh, yeah?” you have to admit, you’re confused by this turn of events, still convinced that any second now he’s going to get up, laugh, and decide not to waste his time with you any further. He could have _normal_ friends.

“Okay, that’s what I thought. That’s what I’ve been thinking, actually. And that’s what I’ll keep thinking. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Make sure what?” you’re still dazed, how does he know about…this?”

“I used to be really close to Strider.” Oh, did you ask that out loud? Oops.

“Wait, so you know about Dave, too?” your head feels a little less heavy than before, but he’s still hugging you, almost stubbornly.

“Yeah, I knew him before he started to, y’know,” he shrugs and rolls his eyes, “We just started to have different classes, did different things, so we kinda drifted apart a little.”

You avoid asking what their mutual thing for Egbert did to their friendship and distractedly pull your shirt down, and Karkat slowly pulls away, wincing, “Shit, that’s why you looked like a zombie, god, I’m sorry, I say stupid shit sometimes, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“It’s fine,” mostly because you feel like you should be the one apologizing here, so you do, or at least you start, “I’m sorry, I should’ve said something, or hinted or-“

“No, dude, it’s okay, I get it,” he offers you an honest-to-god smile, a little one that still makes his dimples show and his eyes crinkle up and oh god you _cannot_   be romanticizing your best friend right now, you must still be all hyped on adrenaline, “It’s okay, really.”

And, for the night, it really does end up being okay. Karkat eventually disentangles himself from you, you kick his ass yet again in Halo, your dad asks if everything is okay later that night, and you find yourself grinning and nodding.

And before you two actually pass out in your basement, Karkat punches your shoulder fondly and says, “G’night, Sollux,” and you respond, “Night, KK,” like nothing’s happened.

Which, you guess, nothing has. Nothing bad, at least.


	18. 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Reflect on who you are, not on who you aren't, because  
> A reflection requires a person  
> looking at themselves, and  
> Not others."  
> \- M. Lincoln

It’s a few days after the first snowfall of what meteorologists and cryptic old people have been calling “the worst winter in years” and you and Karkat are enjoying a nice, relaxing bout of “watch Karkat hurl ingredients at a bowl and turn them into something edible”.  It’s been long enough that you’ve learned to not offer any assistance because what you earn is a scathing glance and a “Keep your clumsy, bony fingers away from anything sharp,” so instead you lounge against the granite kitchen island and observe from afar as Karkat rattles on about something-or-other. The usual shit.

“…And it’s so painfully, acutely obvious that she’s not asking him,” eggs are cracked with relish, “Because she wants him to ask her first, but if she has to wait any fucking longer for him,” he chops something, onions, maybe, “To work up the balls to say something even though they both know what’s going on there, she might just pluck up the next vaguely-attractive thing,” there’s some furious whisking going on, “That breaths in her vicinity, stupid, vain bitch she is.”

“Not that watching you try to kill yourself through hardcore cooking isn’t hugely amusing and all, but the fuck are you going on about?” you ask, stretching and idly examining some of the scattered post-it notes with loopy, scrawled writing on them, probably victims of Reverend Vantas’ latest late night brainstorm.

Karkat turns, face deadpan and hands amazingly clean, “The monumental event our school hosts every winter? The quintessence of all things stereotypically teenage and spirited? The reason for the general polarity in the hallways between mad hope and placated angst?” When you continue to look nonplussed and confused, he drops his head to a hand and grumbles, “That huge, annoying dance the SGA is putting on just before break, nimrod.”

You glance back at him and roll your eyes and he goes right back to mixing with the same energy, “Dude, some of us haven’t spent all of eternity here, how would I know abou—“

“The garish posters in every nook and cranny, the overly cheery announcements on the intercom before school starts, the near-frenetic muttering about finding dates,” Karkat throws the words over his shoulder as he nurses more food-in-the-making, “Speaking of which, who are you bringing?”

You can hear Kankri upstairs talking to someone, and you lean further back against the counter and shrug, “I didn’t know it existed until now so I don’t know. Why even would I want to go?” Dances were never really your thing; loud music and a fuckton of people watching your every move…

“Everyone goes. Consider it your first true foray into the wild social climate of Prospit. Why don’t you ask your one creepy ghost girlfriend?” He actually turns to look at you again after shoving whatever he’s making into the oven.

With a snort you pull out your phone and send a quick text to Aradia, asking if she’s interested in going as Karkat cleans up the kitchen counter, “She’s not my girlfriend, though ‘creepy’ is something I will keep in that sentence, though I’m choosing to use it endearingly. See, there’s AA-creepy and then there’s TZ-creepy.”

You can visibly see Karkat shudder at the mention of your mutual acquaintance, and you snicker as you read Aradia’s equally succinct reply aloud, “’Sure, Sollux! Be sure to look nice!’” You even attempt to accurately portray that one silly emote she uses, which earns you a barking laugh from your best friend. You send your dad a quick text about finding you something to wear and decide not to comment verbally on the tenseness in Karkat’s shoulders as he continues cleaning up. He’s probably thinking about getting a date, himself, the sappy romantic he is.

* * *

 

A few days later finds you, Tuna, and your dad walking into the store where your father gets his suits, and finds you feeling slightly anxious and a little out of place in your t-shirt and worn jeans. The look the sales guy gives you when your father, all calm friendliness, gives him the situation does nothing to help you, but your father and brother following you back to the room where you’ll be measured does.

Your father starts musing on colors while you’re measured, arms, legs, waist, chest—and you breath more easily after the clerk steps away saying something about earth tones.

What follows is a process you can only describe as grueling, a gauntlet of jackets, pants and shirts taken on and off in the confines of a dim little changing room, followed by a strut of sorts in front of your father and brother, one of whom reacts only slightly while the other reacts animatedly, smiles and nods versus giggles.

( How Tuna manages to actually giggle, you’ll never know.)

You send a quick picture to Karkat with the best deathface you can manage in between a brown jacket and a blue blazer and wonder what this feels like for guys who aren’t like you.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was something said once, of resolutions and of new years.  
> Mine is to not give up, mine is to persevere.  
> Mine is to update my damn writing.  
> -M. K. Lincoln

You blink, and it’s Monday of the last week of classes. You catch Karkat meeting Dave’s gaze over the edge of his textbook in English, see them mouthing something at one another, but they stop after you notice.

You blink again, it’s Wednesday afternoon, Karkat just finished his Math final and is thanking you for your help, actually smiling for once, and not because someone fell or because he made a joke. He actually smiles, and his arm is around your shoulders as you start heading back to his place, despite the difference in height. You ask him if he thinks he did well and he nods and says, in thanks, that he’ll “actually let you win in Halo for once”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. He hasn’t beat you once unless it was when he had the damn shotgun, and that sure as hell doesn’t count. You tell him so when he lets you into the Vantas household. It looks like it’s going to snow again, and he drags you inside by your wrist, not unkindly.

You blink once more, and it’s Friday night, after the last day of school, before winter break. The dance is tomorrow, and Karkat is sending you pictures of Kankri and Reverend Vantas going through his closet, in search of something to wear to what your best friend has been calling “the bane and perpetual annoyance” of his existence. You send back a joke about there being no need to search the closet because Karkat himself was no longer in it. In return, you get a blurry picture of what you assume is Karkat’s middle finger. A glance to your right, out the window, reveals that it’s snowing, like it has been off and on all day. Closer to you, your digital clock tells you that it’s nearing 1 AM and, fuck, how has time been passing so quickly? Tomorrow…you’re not sure about tomorrow. You haven’t been to a “school function” in…well, in a long time. You briefly voice this concern to Karkat, who tells you, as kindly as he can, that you’ll be fine, nobody’ll say anything weird, and if they do, his fists have a pretty great vocabulary.

* * *

 

You open your eyes (you’re not sure when you shut them, but here you are), and you’re at the outside entrance to the school gym, It’s actually stopped snowing, and they’ve cleared a pretty wide path to the entrance. Aradia looks back at you, smiles, and tugs you forward, presenting your tickets to whoever’s at the door, you hadn’t bothered to check, because you’re already a little uncomfortable. Aradia leads you to a few chairs, makes sure you can sit, pats your head, and then says she’s off to find something for the both of you to drink.

Bless her, honestly.

Out of the corner of your eye you see movement, and you know only one person who can manage to look so disgruntled when flopping into a chair.

“KK?”

Karkat looks up at you, then actually sits up a little so he doesn’t _have_ to look up, “Sollux? Dude,” he leans back a little, like he’s trying to take it all in, whatever your dad and Tuna did to help you look “debonair” (honestly, you wish your dad didn’t talk like that sometimes), “Dude, you look…actually not terrible. Pretty great, actually.”

You’re more than a little surprised for a moment, then you clear your throat and give Karkat a once over, too, one that you regret, because he looks _good_ and you promised yourself you weren’t going to romanticize your best friend because having a best friend is fucking good. Oh, and Karkat’s still looking at you, expectant, “Um, thanks, you look pretty great, too.”

_Very, very smooth, Captor. Smooth as sandpaper._

You decide to ignore your internal pessimist and add on, “Uh, how long have you been here?”

“Not long,” Karkat glances away and you finally feel like you can breathe a little, “Terezi’s mom gave us a lift, better than walking, but we got here pretty early by my standards.”

“You came with TZ?” you hope you don’t sound or look as incredulous as you feel, “I thought you guys hated each other, in a weird friendship kind of way.”

“I’m not here _with_ her, nimrod. Our parents both wanted pictures, so we _tentatively_ agreed to attend together so both my dad and her mom could relive their own high school dances, not that I know why they’d _want_ to.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his jacket, glancing out to the crowd of people actually dancing, almost as if he’s looking for someone, “Plus, if I had my way, I _would’ve_ actually come _with_ someone. _With_.”

You’re about to respond to that when Aradia appears, looking victorious, “Punch! And I had the foresight to get three cups of it, too!” she grins, handing off one each to you and Karkat, “Aw, don’t you two just look wonderfully dreary. After we finish these, we are dancing. Notice I said _we_ ,” she adds as Karkat looks like he’s going to try to squirm away, “In this case, that means all three of us! And whoever else might want to join!”

An hour later, and the three of you, plus a few others, are actually doing something that could be described as dancing. Aradia’s on one side of you, laughing at something Terezi’s doing, you glance off to the side and catch a glimpse of Tavros with someone you can’t recognize, and Karkat’s next to you, half-groaning at the choice in song but trying to have a good time nonetheless.

“This is actually fun,” he shouts over the din to you and you laugh and nod,

“Glad you came?”

“Yeah, actually!”

Another hour and you’re outside, catching your breath after Aradia led you through a particularly spirited song. It’s much quieter out here, and even though the snow seems to be starting again, sneaking, almost, under the overhang it’s still dry. There’s a crunch of gravel behind you, and it seems like you’ve been followed outside by none other than your best friend.

“Still hanging in there?” he asks, and his voice almost sounds hoarse, you didn’t think Karkat of all people could ever lose his voice, but it seems like he’s well on his way, “Or did Aradia tire you out already?”

“Just taking a break, don’t worry, you’ll get your slow dance at the end,” you joke, turning to catch him looking a little more than red in the face; your best guess is because of the change in temperature from inside.

“I…actually, about that.” Karkat steps closer, looking up a little, seemingly sheepish, “I uh. Wanted to talk to you about that. Like…what if,” he takes a deep breath and rushes the next sentence out, unintelligible, “Whatifitwasntajokeandimaybewantedtoactuallydancewithyou.”

“S-Sorry?” you ask, confused to say the least, both at how Karkat’s acting and what he just said, “Run that by me again?”

Karkat looks down for a long moment before speaking again, voice quieter than before, slow, you’d say almost shaky if you didn’t know any better, “I said, what if it wasn’t a joke and I maybe wanted to actually dance with you. Like. Slow.”

“I, uh…” you’re at a loss for words, your brain working double overtime to try and figure out where Karkat’s going with this, what he’s playing at, “What, er, why would you want to dance with me?”

Karkat kinda laughs a little, “Sollux, I know you’re not dense,” and he steps forward again so he’s really close and-- is he wearing cologne or something? Since when does Karkat wear cologne, and since when does he mutter “Please let this not fuck things up”, and since when does he kiss you?

Oh.

_Oh._

_Holy fuck._


	20. 20

The world tilts back into focus slowly, as if you got lost in the fabric of space-time for a moment when he kissed you.

Right.

Karkat kissed you.

…

Why would he do that? You resolve to ask him as soon as he stops kissing you and you stop kissing him and you’re not really ‘making out’ per say but yep. He sure is kissing you. And you’re kissing him. And it’s snowing outside again and somebody laughs and it definitely can’t be you or him since you’re. Y’know. Kissing each other.

Distantly, you’re aware of the door to the gym opening somewhere behind you and the sound makes Karkat pull back a little, his eyes blown wide and oh no you’re probably staring. A little closer to your sphere of awareness, you realize that whoever opened the door is cackling. Ah, yes. Terezi.

Neither of you has said anything and you’re still very close together. And you’re both still staring at each other. Terezi’s saying something but hell if you’re listening. Without looking away, Karkat barks a “What,” which leads you to believe that he’s also not paying attention to her right now. The fact makes you feel a little smug.

“I _said_ you look like the cat that caught the canary,” she repeats, evidently, “How long have you _lovebirds_ been out here? Aradia and I have been looking for you, how could you abandon your poor dates like this?” A quick glance at her face reveals she’s not upset at all, in fact, she’s smirking.

Your voice surprises yourself, “Shut up, TZ,” and Karkat practically snaps to attention and he barely gets a word in edgewise before you surprise yourself further, cupping his face and pulling him in to kiss him again.

You know that TZ’s taking pictures, and you can’t bring yourself to care.

* * *

 

You get back to your place pretty late, after midnight, and Karkat comes with you. You spent the last few hours glued to each other sides, though you haven’t talked about what happened at all. Every time you glanced at his face, he was smiling. Honestly, genuinely smiling. The idea that it’s you that is making him smile like that makes your chest and stomach feel warm, and now that you’re back at your place, having gotten a ride back from Tuna, he won’t stop smiling _at_ you. Your dad _and_ Reverend Vantas, for whatever reason, are there to greet you when you get back, asking if you had a good time, and, in Reverend Vantas’ case, fretting about how his “niñito” is growing up too fast for his liking. You manage to shrug them off and head downstairs and somewhere along the way, Karkat’s fingers slide against yours, almost as if asking permission. Cautiously, you return the gesture and you’re. Holding hands now. Which is new.

You don’t say much for a few long seconds, and neither does Karkat, the two of you standing in the middle of the game room, just looking at each other like you’re both lost, and then Karkat scratches the back of his head with his free hand, “So…” and he trails off, sheepish.

“Eloquent,” you comment, though the word carries no venom, and he laughs, once.

“C’mon, I’m trying to be serious here.” He pauses and really does sober up a little, just barely squeezing your hand, “Judging by your reaction to me, uh, y’know, kissing you, I’d guess that it’s…ok?”

Part of you wants to dramatically exclaim that it is more than ok, that _he’s_ far more than ok, but you settle for “I guess you could say that. I _did_ kiss you back, didn’t I?”

_Nice, go for the classic snark. That’ll make things less stuffy._

“No, c’mon, we’re being serious,” he huffs a little, and his hair, a far sight from the carefully styled do he had earlier, falls into his eyes as he looks down a little, “You gotta be real with me here, Sollux, or I’m not going to know if what I did is okay, or if I ruined anything, or—“

You squeeze _his_ hand and shake your head, “Ok, real talk, it was ok, and no, you didn’t ruin anything.” You bite your lip and add, in a rush, “And I totally wouldn’t get mad if you did that again.”

_Yikes. Smooth as the roads after a long winter._

“You—wait, really?” he sounds like he’s surprised, somehow.

“Dude, I don’t kiss people I don’t like,” and you can’t meet his eyes after his expression morphs into something you can’t recognize, something you’re not familiar with, something that makes your stomach twist pleasantly, “I wanna get out of this fucking suit.”

And when Karkat waggles his eyebrows after a brief pause, you flush and punch his arm and he laughs, still holding your hand.

You sleep a little closer together that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just something short and sweet, getting back into the swing of writing things that aren't academic


End file.
